


Shaved

by brownbot5k



Series: Pretty Girls with Good Manners [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Scars, Shaving, Trans Female Character, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownbot5k/pseuds/brownbot5k
Summary: Bob spent the latter half of the seventies shaving everything, and he still remembers what a pain it was.  He can't imagine it's any less obnoxious for Grace, but he CAN imagine it's one of the only ways she can be herself at work.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Pretty Girls with Good Manners [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005243
Kudos: 4





	Shaved

With one thing and another, Bob starts staying the night at Grey’s place more often. It’s easier, especially since Jenny knows and doesn’t require excuses. (Though she does seem horrified at the idea that Grey is a sexual being and not just a killer government robot.)

It’s been a while since Bob had to share a bathroom with somebody, but they build a morning routine. Grey gets up, puts on the coffee, and leaves the newspaper for him. Once the Liquid of Life rouses him, he drags into the bathroom and showers and shaves because once Grey returns, she claims it until they leave. Sometimes he reads the paper to her, but always from outside, through the slitted bathroom door. He shrugs, figures she wants privacy, and takes to brushing his teeth over the kitchen sink. It works until he gets a bad breakfast burrito one morning and has no choice but to burst in while Grey’s showering, apologizing all the while.

There’s no hiding the amount of shaving cream everywhere. Grey mostly shows concern for Bob’s health (he’s fine, once the burrito’s out of him), but she also seems shamefaced, like he’s caught her at something.

They rush on to work and don’t talk about it. Bob doesn’t know what to say, because he’s not sure what she’s ashamed of, and asking seems like rubbing salt in the wound. If she’s not happy with her body, why remind her? If she doesn’t like him seeing her, how to reassure her?

Then he gets an idea. He spent the latter half of the seventies shaving everything, and it was a pain; he can’t imagine it’s any more fun for Grey. So he packs a box, stays the night Friday, and come Saturday, wakes up early and chugs his coffee. When Grey comes back from her run, flushed and smelling delicious, Bob is there with a straight razor.

“Morning, Grace,” he says. “I could do that for you, if you want.”

Her eyes are wide and startled, but she says, “Okay.”

The shaving kit was a well-meaning gift from an old coworker—very tasteful, very butch, hilariously kinky. It’d taken all his self-control to say with a straight-face, “Thanks Marv, I’ll treasure it always,” before forgetting it in a closet. Bob can use a straight razor (his father insisted he learn), but he’s never wanted to wave a lethal weapon around before coffee. Well, not for fun, not until now.

Kink slows Bob down. Normally, his mind yammers on about a million things a second, but when he’s domming, everything else drops away. It turns a daily chore like shaving into something ceremonial and meditative… and hot, besides. Usually, they fuck with Grey still in uniform; she wears it like armor. He’s seen her naked before, but never for long. This time, though, she holds still, lets him build up a rich, creamy lather with the badger brush, soap her up, and razor her clean. 

It’s a lot of skin… and scars. When he shaves Grey’s arms, he finds the slashes from her hire, the round divot from her vaccinations. When he shaves her legs, he finds scars on her knees from scrapes and falls, the dots and line from the steel rod after a hit-and-run. And then, of course, there’s the big weld job that goes all down her torso. He’s wanted to put his mouth on it since Valentine’s Day, but he knows she’s self-conscious about it.

When he feels Grey’s eyes on him, he looks up to find her with that awed, worshipful expression again. Bob’s got enough of an ego to like the stroking, and when he smiles at her, she turns pink and averts her eyes, which just ices the cake. Half the department is scared of her, but he makes her blush like a schoolgirl.

So when he finishes her chest, he tosses the towel over his shoulder and asks, “want me to go lower?”

That, he knows, Grey doesn’t shave, at least not regularly, but Bob can’t resist, not with the look (and color) on her face. She opens her thighs to the razor, and this, this is what he’s kinky for, that perfect moment when someone bends for him. Because she wants to. Because she wants him to. Because he’s just that good.

Bob kisses her hip by the scar, and it’s just a little thing, but she sucks in her breath.

“Twenty?” he asks.

“Sensitive.”

“Oh? In a good way?”

She nods.

He grins. “Good.” And starts working.

It gets him going, the idea of her going to work with all this under her uniform. Part of him wants someone to see it in the locker room as she changes, to notice. To want, though nobody in their department would ever admit that Agent Grey, possible super-soldier serial killer, is hot as hell.

Too bad, boys, he thinks, she’s mine.

Then he catches himself, shoves that thought (and its possessiveness) away. No, stop it; down, boy. Don’t take this seriously. Don’t ruin a perfectly good thing by getting all caveman about it. Leave it in the scene.

But when he finishes and she runs her hands over herself, feeling the difference with a bemused, wondering expression on her face, Bob has to busy himself with putting things away. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, and seeing this beautiful girl covered in signs he’s been there—hickeys fading on her shoulder, skin razored smooth… seeing her like it…

“Thank you,” she says.

Bob isn’t sure why she’s thanking him, but he also never wants her to stop, so he says, “you’re welcome, Grace,” and kisses her hip again.

She squirms, and for a moment, he thinks she’s going to pull away, but then her hands come down on his shoulders. Her eyes are questioning.

“Please?” she asks.

Bob has never been able to resist a sub with good manners.


End file.
